


mr. christmas advice

by r0wlets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, christmas in halloween month eyyyy, old stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets
Summary: Tracey was never the best advice-giver. Especially with fathers. Oneshot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Original notes: Out of the regular schmo twerp trainers, Tracey’s one of my favorites to write. Even though he gets a lot of shit. Timeline is right between the Orange League and Johto. Somehow it's the Christmas season, yay~)
> 
> Originally written December 24th, 2015 on tumblr and FF.Net. This was great to right.

_mr. christmas advice_

Ash flipped through the TV channel, absently scratching Pikachu’s back as he did so. Christmas seemed to start earlier and earlier every year. Last year while he was travelling through Kanto, the Christmas season had started at the beginning of the month; now that it started around the last week of November, he was sick of looking at all of the Christmas specials.

Except the Frosties and Rudolphs. He wished someone would make a TV special with them fighting, like Godzilla and King Kong.

All of those _other_ specials mostly revolved around families and junk. He thought that he’d be more supportive of that, just like with his friends. Mom was still the best, as was Professor Oak. And Misty and Brock and all of his pokemon were still great. And even Gary and Team Rocket had their moments.

But there always had to be such a rotten apple in the bunch.

He increased his button-pushing speed as Tracey came from the other room, hanging up his apron on one of the hooks. “Hey, Ash, I made some sandwiches for us,” he said, setting down a plate of plain cheese sandwiches with some crackers on the side. “Your mom said she’d be home in a couple of hours or so, so she just said to eat lunch without her.”

“Thanks, Tracey.”

But Ash just kept flipping through the channels, not even entertaining Tracey’s inferior sandwiches. Well, Tracey wasn’t a _bad_ cook or a _bad_ friend, but sometimes he just needed a father-figure around to coach him into getting out of his bad moods. Like Brock.

But Brock and Misty were at their own homes, and Professor Oak was at a conference somewhere. He was glad that Tracey and Pikachu were at home to keep him company, but Tracey wasn’t that father-figure he needed at these desperate times. He was a lot more like Mom.

And he didn’t really think even Mom could coach him out of this one, either.

“Ah, heck!” he finally cried, tossing the remote beside him to tug at his face.

Tracey furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “You wanna talk, Champ? You never turn down lunch.”

“Yeah. Hey, Tracey, you ever have that one family member that you try to avoid at all costs?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m not really close to any of the family members I know to try to avoid them.” Placing a hand on Ash’s shoulder, Tracey shook his head. “Awww, Ash, don’t tell me you and your mom had a fight. She seemed just fine on the phone, so if there’s anything I can do-“

“No, of course it’s not Mom. It’s just…well. I kinda didn’t want to come home around this time of year.”

“ _What?_ Why? I thought you liked Christmas!”

“I _do_!” Ash ran his hands over his face, groaning. He didn’t Tracey would get it as much as Misty or Brock would. But he had to try. Side-eyeing Pikachu, who already knew his problem, then back at Tracey, he groaned one more time until it increased into an irritated sigh. “It’s my dad. He doesn’t live with us, but sometimes he comes to visit for holidays. Last time was…uh…maybe it was last year, but I wasn’t here. Before that it’s been three years. I thought he’d just forget and stuff, but then Mom told me over the phone that he cleared his schedule to see us this year. We were still in the Orange Islands.”

“So why didn’t you just tell your mom that you didn’t want to come here?”

“I _did_. And then I got a call from him. You remember that time when we were at that one Pokemon Center, and I said I had to use the bathroom really badly because of Misty’s homemade tacos, and it took me, like, two hours to come out?”

“Yeah?…”

“Well, that was only half-true. I used the bathroom for half that time, and then I had to answer one of _his_ phone calls.” Ash wrinkled his nose. “So, I answered, and he was like-“ Puffing out his cheeks, he continued in a deeper voice, “-‘Ash, if you don’t come see your mother for Christmas this year, I might steal her away this time.’ And so I called him a poophead and we argued for about an hour before I slammed the phone on him. He’s always using Mom against me!”

“Sounds rough, buddy.”

“Yeah. Dad’s a real jerk. He’s always busy and he yells a lot and he’s only ever nice to Mom and his cat bites. When I was younger, I think he got into a couple of fistfights with the Professor. The _Professor_ , Tracey! I thought when he did that that I’d never get my training license!”

Mentally docking points from this mysterious Mr. Ketchum for fighting Professor Oak, Tracey shook his head. One of them had to be strong, and it wasn’t going to be Ash this time. “Well, don’t let him get you all the way down, Ash. It’s been a few Christmases. Maybe it’ll be better this year!”

But Ash shook his head, standing up from the couch. Pikachu climbed on his shoulder, and he just shook his head again. “I…the last time I saw him was around the time I competed in the Indigo Conference. We didn’t exactly get along. Ask Brock.”

“Oh…maybe I should.”

“Thanks for the pep-talk, anyway, Trace.”

And with that Ash ran upstairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. Tracey’s eyes lingered upstairs for a few seconds, then back at the sandwiches. “ _Am I really that bland of a cook?_ ” he thought to himself. “ _But I thought Mimey and Psyduck liked them…huh._ ”

Picking up one of the sandwiches, Tracey began to nibble at the crusts. He wished he would’ve been a better help. He usually never saw Ash this sad except when he lost a taxing pokemon battle or forgot his lunch money behind on one of the Pokemon Centers’ seats. Actually, Ash never really talked about home that much, either, besides his mother’s cooking. Maybe he’d already mention everything to know a lot earlier in his journey. After all, he knew Brock and Misty and Gary Oak longer than he did Tracey. Maybe his dad was just that rancid.

Maybe his dad was like one of those raging Gyarados he’d heard about in the lakes.

A shiver ran up Tracey’s spine, but he tried to ignore it as he continued to eat his sandwich. Ash was still a kid, so maybe he was just exaggerating a little bit. Right? If Mrs. Ketchum understood him, then he couldn’t be that bad of a person, right?

_“I think he got into a couple of fistfights with the Professor.”_

“Ack!”

Tracey hunched over his knees, punching his chest to get the rogue piece of sandwich from his throat. He was successful and spat the piece onto the floor just as the door opened. As he stooped to pick it up, when he looked back up, he met the eyes of a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a very nice shirt and tie and a pair of suitpants.

Maybe he was in Hell.

“H-hello!” Tracey choked out, standing to his height. He had to play it cool. If the man was a robber, he wouldn’t stand much of a chance. If Ash was still sulking, he probably wouldn’t come to the rescue, either.

But the man merely narrowed his eyes, which made Tracey feel even worse. “My, I’m so sorry that my mere presence is enough to disturb your lunch. Honestly, after that atrocious end to our last conversation, I thought you would have checked your manners, but I misplaced my faith.”

“But-“

“Oh, you got a haircut? Finally. And that damned hat’s finally gone, too. I know you liked that hat very much, but you were wearing it every day and I doubt you ever washed it. You’re twelve years now, and your mother _still_ reminds you to change your underwear every day, doesn’t she?”

“I’m-“

“And you disciplined that rat of yours into a poke ball, too? Manners aside, I think you’re on the right track to becoming a more… _gentlemanly_ sort of boy. Good job. Now where’s your mother?”

They continued to stare at each other. “ _He’s so_ tall!” Tracey thought as he bit his lips again, but he didn’t think the man would take too kindly to such obvious statements. At the very least, he knew he needed to clear up this mistaken identity, and quickly. “Mrs. Ketchum said she’d be back in an hour and a half,” Tracey said, composing himself. That’s right, he had to compose himself to stand any sort of chance at all. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, though, Sir. My name is Tracey Sketchit. I’m one of Ash’s friends.” Sweatdropping, he reluctantly offered his hand as a sacrifice. “But if you need me to take a message, I’m sure I can deliver it to Ash or Mrs. Ketchum as soon as I can.”

His hand was left alone. The man shook his head, brushing past him with a couple of suitcases. “There’s no need. Where’s Ash?”

“In his room. He’s a little upset right now. It’s that year for family drama, haha.”

“Don’t tell me he’s been fighting with his mother.”

“I thought so, too, but apparently it’s with his father. From what Ash told me, his father’s not the friendliest guy in the world. Can’t even get along with Professor Oak, and I thought _everyone_ got along with Professor Oak!”

Suddenly the man turned around to glare at him again, and Tracey’s spine shiver grew stronger. He had a sinking feeling that this man wasn’t a robber, but he didn’t want to admit that he never actually thought he was a robber in the first place. “Well, _his father_ would get along better with Professor Oak if the old man stopped flirting with his wife,” he snarled, gripping the stair rail. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“Yes…”

He knew he could’ve tried to stop Mr. Ketchum or warn Ash of his impending misery with his father, but he just couldn’t do it.

He didn’t think all of Ash’s friends in the world could fix _this_ problem.

***

Ash squirmed in his seat. Well, this was a disaster. Pikachu kept on his shoulder for comfort, but he wished he could fast-forward past all of this Christmas. On one side of him was Tracey, looking at anywhere in the room except him. Served him right. He should’ve thrown his body against his dad earlier.

And on the other side was…well…

“We’ve been sitting on this couch for over an hour now,” Ash finally broke the silence, reaching over Tracey’s lap for the remote. “I should’ve just went back outside and did some more training.”

Tracey’s sweatdrops kept growing in size and number. Ash ignored him and was about to turn back on the TV when he felt the all-familiar glare shining down on his free shoulder. If he could cash in every lecture or argument he had with his father, he’d be a much richer pokemon trainer. Bracing himself Ash kept his thumb over the on switch. “What is it?” he asked coolly.

“Your mother told me you managed to get through the Orange League. Did they present to you any more of a challenge than Kanto’s gym leaders?”

“Thanks for your congratulations, Dad. I won, didn’t I?”

“Winning isn’t everything, Ash. If you’re still trying to be a pokemon master, you need as many quality battles as victorious battles. In my opinion I don’t think you gained much of the former while you travelled through Kanto.”

“And why do you think that?”

“You remember our little battle before you began competing in the Indigo Conference, don’t you?”

Ash clenched his teeth, avoiding his father’s glance and that damnable smirk that was sure to be accompanying it. It had to have happened shortly after Mimey came to live with his mom. Gary was still depressed and apprehensive over losing at the Viridian Gym, and he, bragging over his victory against Team Rocket, showed off his Earth Badge up and down Pallet Town until his father cornered and baited him into having a battle with the _real_ (and not quite former yet) gym leader of Viridian City. The results were disastrous.

He had to change the subject, and quickly.

“Well, I’m just glad you could rearrange your busy schedule to come to our backwoods home and see us, Dad,” Ash said, forcing a smile. “Professor Oak won’t even be around this year, so you can have a perfect Christmas.”

His father’s face immediately fell. Tracey somehow got a book in his hands and began pretending to read it. He was now officially close enough friends to see that notorious side, just like Brock and Misty and Gary and Ritchie that one time. But it had to be done. Dad’s jerkiness had to be put in its place.

And so they continued to sit in awkward silence, Ash’s hand forever glued to the remote, until Delia came home, groceries and a surprised look in-hand. “Hi, honey, Tracey. Sorry I’m a little late. Traffic,” she said, making her way to the couch. Smiling, she leaned down to kiss Ash on the forehead, then looked next to him. “Giovanni. You’re a little early.”

“Wanted to avoid that traffic,” Giovanni grumbled, though with a smirk on his face.

“Well, come help me with the rest of the groceries, would you? Mimey can only hold so much.”

“Sure, dear. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Not as much as last time~”

They went outside, Delia shutting the door behind her. Ash turned to Tracey, one of his eyebrows raised. “See, Tracey? He can act as tough as he wants, but in the end he’s always mush around Mom. I might not be able to beat him all the time, but _she_ can. She’s a real hero.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry for doubting you, Ash. Your dad’s kinda scary.”

Ash nodded, suddenly looking said. Pikachu nuzzled against his neck, and he patted his head. “He’s always been kinda intimidating, but we used to get along when I was a kid. Christmas used to always be _fun_ , even when he did kinda fight Professor Oak.” Sighing, he looked down at the floor. “Even though he was always busy, when he came to see us, it was like fireworks everywhere. Mom was really happy, and he’d overrun this floor right here with gifts for us. One time he got this cool BB gun that was based on this one Christmas movie…but Mom had Professor Oak take it away. Now that I think about it, that might’ve been the reason for one of the fistfights.”

“One _of the fistfights, he says,_ ” Tracey thought, but he merely nodded.

“My dad just hates how I became an ordinary pokemon trainer with a Pikachu and just kinda decided that I’d be a pokemon master. He thinks I should’ve set some more practical goals. That’s caused some fighting between him and Mom, too.”

“Well, becoming a pokemon master’s bound to take time. I’m sure he’ll come across sooner or later, champ.”

“Mom says that’ll happen when Team Rocket stops trying to steal Pikachu,” Ash said, groaning, now staring up at the ceiling. “Which will be never, at this rate. “He doesn’t even think I’m that good of a pokemon trainer! Mom claims he’s still proud of me, but I doubt that. He’s not proud of anything but himself and maybe Mom.”

“That’s not true, honey. Your father’s very proud of you. He’s showing his pride right now!”

Ash’s parents were back inside, and both boys couldn’t stop from bursting out laughing. Giovanni, trying to keep his temper intact from flinging groceries ever, was doused from head to toe in water of some kind. Probably the snow that was still on the ground from a couple of days ago. Delia patted the man on the back, grinning. “We had a little talk outside, and I told him to lighten up on you since you work so hard. He’s just being a grump again, so we then talked with snowballs.”

“You just starting throwing them out of nowhere!” Giovanni hissed, wiping some wet flakes from his shirt sleeve. “ _Honestly_ , Delia, you shouldn’t set so much of a bad example for the boy!”

“Do you wanna go for round two, young man?”

“ _…..no._ ”

“Then let’s get these groceries into the kitchen! C’mon, Mimey.”

“Mime-mime!”

They walked into the kitchen, Mimey closely following them with one of his Mr. Mime tunes. Tracey couldn’t stop his laughs, and neither could Ash. Maybe Mr. Ketchum wasn’t the worst guy in the world after all. If Mrs. Ketchum could handle him…

…then again he had to be wise. This might just be his last Christmas if he didn’t stay wise.


End file.
